THIS is a CLOSE-UP?

First off, if you haven't already, I want you to read this post by Glenn Greenwald, one of the best living journalists on the planet, who offers a typically intelligent take on Brexit: https://theintercept.com/2016/06/25/brexit-is-only-the-latest-proof-of-the-insularity-and-failure-of-western-establishment-institutions/ There have been lots of hot takes -- so, so many hot takes -- on the pros and cons of Britain leaving the European Union, with the cons resonating the loudest in most media channels. Also, there have been attempts by numerous Americans to parallel the Brexit voter with the Trump voter w/r/t lower than average intelligence, higher than average xenophobia, and a general Luddite backwater mien. Being a self-centered cuss, my immediate reaction was to look at my retirement accounts, survey the damage, and try not to sigh too loudly. Of course, in the context of Greenwald's trenchant analysis as to the nature of elite status, that last comment of mine has paint...

The handsome fellow above is Gordon ("Gord") Downie, and for the past three decades, he's been the lead singer and lyricist of the Canadian band The Tragically Hip. I've had the pleasure of listening to The Hip on the regular for about two decades, when I fell in love with Day For Night from 1994; I've also seen the band live a handful of times, including one show at The Orbit Room where I got to tell Gord to his face just how much he and the band meant to me. As a proper Canadian, Gord let me ramble on, smiling all the while, and then thanked me profusely for being there. I mean, come on. Almost a month ago, it was publicly announced that Gord Downie was suffering from terminal brain cancer, and a horrible year for music fans became just that much more ugly and shattering. (I could spend the rest of this post talking about the depth of meaning that the music of The Hip has brought to my life -- sharing sentiments like the ones offered here -- but that'...

It's been fifty years since Bob Seger first put down tracks to wax as a young maximum R&B proselytizer straight outta Detroit, with a soulful and seductive voice that echoed up and down Woodward after hours. However, most people aren't aware of that period of his career, if they're aware of him at all. And it would be a shame if "Shakedown" -- his only #1 hit, driving and synthetic and coked-out and 97% 1987, from the Beverly Hills Cop II soundtrack -- is the first thing on people's lips when Bob Seger eventually boogies off this mortal coil. Shit, the way this year is going, it could be sooner than you think. If you're from Michigan, saying "Vernors" and "Bob Seger" in hushed tones acts as talisman and password alike, a secret and sacred code of authenticity. (If you say those to a stranger and get back "soda?" and "Old Time Rock & Roll" respectively, feel free to give them the mitten in return. When I...

What's the definitive version of a song? Is it what's on the sheet music? Is it a particular performer on a particular night who pounds the plaque away from a musty and hoary standard? Is it encoded into 24bit FLAC to digitally shine from your hard drive indefinitely, so long as FLAC sticks around as a format? Is it a relatively untouched German pressing of a vinyl album? Does the concept of "definitive" even exist, said the psychologist focused on the subjective glamour of perceptual parameters? Many of the above questions ran through my mind recently, as I opened up the 2-CD/2-DVD "bookcase" version of Aqualung , the classic 1971 album from Jethro Tull. In this bookcase version, you get the following takes on Aqualung : A 2015 stereo remix by contemporary prog god Steven Wilson (Porcupine Tree, Blackfield, Storm Corrosion, etc.) A flat transfer from the original stereo master in 96/24 LPCM stereo A 2015 5.1 surround remix in DTS 96/24, AC3 Dolby Digi...

"Is Coachella Still Cool?" is the log line that gets trotted out each April, a Groundhog Day feature for mass media everywhere. (See here , for example.) In most post-Coachella features, you see the same things -- young smiling faces on the metal front row fences actually soaking up the music, preening Instagram-ready poses from wannabe lithesome flower-flecked model types, and beefcake bros with tanned flesh and Heineken wristbands guaranteeing easy passage to and from the beer tents. However, this post will be concerned with neither domain of aforementioned examination, as I'm neither cool nor Instragram ready. Instead, what follows is a simple recap of one Coachella vet's experiences, from one of the best first days to one of the worst last days. My friend Brian and I had attended eleven straight Coachella festivals, from 2004 (with Radiohead and a freshly reunited Pixies) to 2014 (which I actually took a second to look up to see that OutKast and Muse headlined, ...

Every now and again, I receive emails from a guy named Bob Lefsetz. Bob writes with passion about a wide variety of topics, from the music industry to popular culture to skiing, and while I don't connect with everything he writes about -- who would? -- it's usually an interesting excursion nevertheless. One of the things I like most is that Bob posts email responses from his readers, of whom there are many. It's a nice reminder of the heterogeneous nature of the population, and it's a chance to be exposed to worldviews that don't match your own, which serves to educate you about the views of others, as well as a chance to reflect on personal perspectives. But every now and again, I run across a missive from someone who offers me nothing but amazement and depression. This week, that person is Will Kerlick. Will's response to Bob's posting about Bruce Springsteen cancelling a concert in North Carolina over a restrictive set of anti-LGBTQI legislation st...

Over the past few months, a handful of the glittering stars of the firmament of rock have been forever dusted and dimmed. From Bowie and Lemmy to Glenn Frey and Keith Emerson, reminders that an age is passing are growing in strength and number, although there will always be the document of song to capture the age and make it ageless. Loss hangs in different ways over two new releases -- You And I by the late Jeff Buckley, and SVIIB by School Of Seven Bells, who lost their founding guitarist Benjamin Curtis to illness during the making of the album. In my days along the fringes of the music industry, I was able to meet both Buckley and Curtis, so it's easier for me to feel sorrow for their absence than it would be otherwise. You And I is a collection of demos that Buckley recorded upon signing with Columbia in the early '90s, and as such, it's a stripped-down affair that would likely have not seen the light of day had Buckley not tragically passed away, unwisely wading...